Lux (The Nocte Trilogy 3)
“What did you mean before?” I ask him slowly, not lowering my gaze. “Why exactly do you think this is kismet?”
His eyes crinkle up a little bit as he smiles yet again. And yet again, his grin is thoroughly amused. A real smile, not a fake one like I’m accustomed to around my house.
“It’s kismet because you seem like someone I might like to know. Is that odd?”
No, because I want to know you, too.
“Maybe,” I say instead. “Is it odd that I feel like I already know you somehow?”
Because I do. There’s something so familiar about his eyes, so dark, so bottomless. But then again, I have been dreaming about them for days.
Dare raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I have that kind of face.”
I choke back a snort. Hardly.
He stares at me. “Regardless, kismet always prevails.”
I shake my head and smile. A real smile. “The jury is still out on that one.”
Dare takes a last drink of coffee, his gaze still frozen to mine, before he thunks his cup down on the table and stands up.
“Well, let me know what the jury decides.”
And then he walks away.
I’m so dazed by his abrupt departure that it takes me a second to realize something because kismet always prevails and I’m someone he might like to know.
He took my dad’s phone number with him.
Chapter Nineteen
Time swirls and twirls and twists as it goes.
It’s tenuous, it’s sharp, it’s complex.
Adair DuBray does rent the Carriage House, and he’s elusive, and he’s mysterious and every day, I want to know him more.
Every day, I feel more like I know him already.
Every night, I dream about him, growing closer and closer to him.
A month passes, and one night, we stand at my favorite place, the blue tidal pools, and stare at the stars.
Dare points upward.
“That’s Orion’s belt. And that over there…. That’s Andromeda. I don’t think we can see Perseus tonight.” He pauses and stares down at me. “D
o you know their myth?”
His voice is calm and soothing and as I listen to him, I let myself drift away from my current problems and toward him, toward his dark eyes and full lips and long hands.
I nod, remembering what I’d learned about Andromeda last year in Astrology. “Yes. Andromeda’s mother insulted Poseidon, and she was condemned to die by a sea monster, but Perseus saved her and then married her.”
He nods, pleased by my answer. “Yes. And now they linger in the skies to remind young lovers everywhere of the merits of undying love.”
I snort. “Yeah. And then they had a corny movie made for them that managed to butcher several different Greek myths at once.”
Dare’s lip twitches. “Perhaps. But maybe we can overlook that due to the underlying message of eternal love.” His expression is droll and I can’t decide if he’s being serious or just trying to be ironic or something, because the irony is lost on you.